


Tolerating

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Prompt Fics [52]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Comfort, Episode: s07e04 Fannysmackin', Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Rated T for Trashmouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22528309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Nick takes care of Greg after his beating.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Series: Prompt Fics [52]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540795
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Tolerating

**Author's Note:**

> for mickeymademedoit on tumblr, from a prompt list 💜

“We need to change those bandages and get some food in ya,” Nick drawls before he slaps his hands on his knees, getting up from the couch abruptly. 

Greg’s head, previously leaning on Nick’s shoulder, lingers in the air, the support of his arm buckles and he nearly falls into the couch before he twists around, kneeling on the cushions and slinging his arms over the back end as he watches Nick fade into the hallway and into the bathroom. 

Nick emerges moments later, hands full of fresh bandages, a bottle of ointment for his face, and a bottle of disinfectant. 

“Do we have to use that?” Greg groans as Nick returns to the couch, sitting sideways and inching closer to his friend.

“I’m sorry, babe, I know it stings like a motherfucker,” Nick unwraps the old bandages around Greg’s head in a slow, gentle manner. “But it’ll be over before you know it, I’ll even make you some of those instant noodles you love so much.”

“Isn’t a love so much as a tolerance, just like I’m _tolerating_ this,” Greg growls through gritted teeth, as he watches Nick dab some of the disinfectant on a clean rag. “And you’re _tolerating_ me.”

“Hey now, you know that’s not true,” Nick’s eyebrows narrowed as he cupped a hand to Greg’s cheek, he felt Greg’s jaw clench in his palm, the bone may as well have cut through Nick’s skin as he bites his lower lip and raises the rag to Greg’s forehead.

“I’m sorry, Greg, I’m sorry,” Nick soothes the man as Greg winces and hisses with pain, a balled fist slapping against the back of the couch, furious tears of pain lining the bottom of his sealed eyelids. “See, it’s over.”

“It’s not over. It’ll never be over,” Greg mutters. “I can’t…can’t even close my eyes thinking I’ll never be able to open them again.”

“I know,” Nick says softly, stroking Greg’s cheek gently with his thumb as he places the rag and disinfectant aside, careful with his touch so that it’s not so hard to make his bruises burn, but soft enough to offer some comfort to the man. Greg nuzzles with a nod as he suppresses a cry.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Nick asks in effort to distract Greg from himself, as he begins to re-wrap his head with a fresh bandage. 

“Hmm?” Greg sniffles.

“Our first date.” 

“This…reminds you of the trip we took to the Neon Graveyard?”

“Well call it a difference of opinion, cause I always thought our first date was that night you spent here, in this house, with me, rubbing a similar ointment as this one,” Nick holds up the tube, before he dispenses some of its contents onto his fingers. “And you started with my hands…”

Nick began to rub the ointment onto Greg’s right hand, still swollen and puffy. He could feel Greg’s fingers twitch at the relative cold of the cream, Nick remembers how uncomfortable the ointment felt, too cold, though it had eased the itch, and he had only _tolerated_ it himself, when Greg was the one to apply it. 

“Now, you had to then work up my arms, my chest, my neck–how is your neck feeling, G?” 

Greg moans as Nick kneads the muscles just below his neck, then gently massages his way up Greg’s neck, and Greg tilts his head back. Nick uses the motion to gently turn them both, so that Greg falls back on the couch, and Nick methodically straddles his lap, and works his way up his neck to his jawline.

“My face, was just… _covered_ with, you know…” Nick continues, his eyebrows raising as he pauses to add more cream to his fingers. “And you had to work so hard on this big ol’ square face of mine.” 

“It’s not that…square, just a little…chiseled,” Greg huffed in between the gentle rubs of his cheeks. He winced as Nick stroked the swollen area under his right eye, to which Nick softly tutted soothing “shh’s.”

“Well, regardless, least I could do is repay you for what you did for me back then. Not gonna lie, I still feel those….phantom bites, but when you touch me, it just…melts away.” 

Greg’s quivering lips curve up into a smile, his eyes light up as his heart flutters. 

“A-And I guess I just hope…it does the same for you,” Nick continues, finished with the application of the ointment, he strokes Greg’s cheeks between his hands. “Cause I ain’t ‘ _tolerating’_ you, G. I love you, and wanna take care of you like you’ve taken care of me all these years.” 

“I love you, too,” Greg blurts out, and the touch of Nick’s fingers, his palms against his skin seem to absorb the pain of his bruising, he can already feel the swelling simmer down in the pores of his skin. He leans forward, into Nick’s hands, his lips pucker out. He closes his eyes, and for the first time since he was dragged out of his car he feels safe in the darkness behind his eyelids, as Nick’s lips meet his. 

He does feel slightly disgusted, as he can taste the cream that had been smeared around his lips, can smell it tingle his nostrils which means that Nick can smell and taste it too, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He knows he’s only pulling back on his normal level of passion to account for Greg’s soreness, and so when Greg breaks the kiss off, because he is truly hungry–his stomach growls a spark that sputters up his throat and to his tongue, which had ferociously licked Nick to satiate his hunger–he wants to keep the kiss going, and judging by the look on Nick’s face, so does he. 

“Should uh…get some food in you now, shouldn’t we?” Nick asks in a husky whisper. 

“Uh-huh. Please,” Greg quickly adds, resisting the urge to grab Nick and keep licking, cause he knows _that_ hunger will never go away anyway.

“Instant noodles it is. Be back in 60 seconds or less,” Nick plants a soft kiss on top of Greg’s hair, before lowering to his ear. “Or the delivery is free.”

“You should get me a pizza instead, to go with all of that cheese.” 


End file.
